Ambassador
by lilyofthedarkvalley
Summary: Aemma is a Northman, a nomad in the snow. She has been chosen to represent her race in Gondor and Aemma must leave everything behind: her freedom, her home and her love. A secret means she is hated, but she must carry on or her kin will starve...
1. Celebrations and Goodbyes

_This one is dedicated to my amazing beta Gwedhiel0117. This story definitely wouldn't be here without her incredible talent and knowledge. _

"We are here," roared the Chieftain of the Northmen, "to celebrate the leaving of one of our most valued members. How can this be a good thing, I hear you ask? Well, this valued member leaves for Gondor to begin the new Age of peace!"

The gathered tribes shouted and banged their tankards on the table, slopping mead onto the rough wood. The Chieftain raised his hand and nodded.

"'Twas fifteen years to the month since the tribe of Sufyan arrived at our borders, injured and weak, begging for aid. They had come in their smallest number of 200, to ask for help. They are no ally of Gondor but when we took them in, many were suspicious. However, the acceptance of Sufyan's tribe has meant that now, as a nation, together we are strong!"

More yelling ensued and the Chieftain had to clap his giant hands together to restore order.

"This strength has come at a price, and we have been labeled as an enemy. This is the reason we are sending a valued member away to the warm lands of the south, for negotiation regarding trade and trust. The Dark Lord Sauron wreaked his storm upon the land and these scars are yet to heal, which is why our member has been chosen for her diplomatic skill, patience and sunny outlook."

Gasps and mutters ran through the assembled as they realized the gender of their new ambassador.

"Peace is always a blessing, whatever side you are on, and when it is requested, it should be given. Which as many remember, is why we have the new diversity of our tribes. Now I would like to introduce you to our valued member; Aemma."

A diminutive figure wearing the traditional woolen dress and fur wrap of the Northmen hurried up to stand beside the massive Chieftain. Her long hair, the color of polished wood, was neatly woven into a plait that reached down to her lower back. Her sky blue eyes shone with warmth as she gazed out towards the Northmen.

She cleared her throat and moved her eyes slowly across the room. In the large wood and stone hall many tables had been crammed and every bench was filled with the various members of Northmen and Haradhrim. Outside the small windows she could see the large lake and forest which surrounded the Hall of the Two Trees. The Hall was the resting place of the Chieftain's tribe, all members of the Northmen had them. During the hibernal winters it was impossible for the tribes to keep wandering, so they came to spend the winter in their resting place. The Men languished on the carved wooden chairs in their best furs and leather jerkins. Those who had just joined the feasting still had snow clumps matted into their silky pelts. Their beards were damp from the copious amounts of mead that had been downed so far, but they were mostly merry. The Harad Men were all wearing furs too, but underneath were the scarlet robes so favored in their far off homeland. The women had on the brightly colored woolen dresses and pelts of northern Rhovanion intermixed with the beautiful embroidery and ornate decorations of Southern Gondor. Some wore headscarves; others had their hair braided into intricate styles. Aemma beamed as her gaze fell on one man in particular; her betrothed.

"Friends, family, loved ones," she began. "I know that many of you are shocked that I, a woman, have been chosen to represent our kin in the cold, marble halls of Gondor. There is nothing that I can say to placate your deep seated fears, only this; I may not have the strength, nor the swordsmanship of a Northman, but I have the guile and the determination to teach the Elessar what peace and living in harmony means. I will show him how no fellow Man is to be hated. I will prove to him that we are not to be trifled with!"

The listeners smiled and nodded appreciatively at her words.

"My wishes are that, by the end of my stay in Gondor, I will have persuaded the merchants that our wool and wood is worth trading, but also show the natives that we can make friends with our enemies. My last words are that I will miss you all greatly, but know that I will return soon, for there will be another celebration. My Sufyan and I will become mated when I return and I extend the invitation to all of you!"

She returned to her seat to much applause and she was clapped heartily on the back. The traditional instruments started to play a jolly tune and the main course was brought in. A wild northern boar had been hunted especially for the occasion by several reckless young Men and the feasting began. Soon everybody began to dance and Aemma was carried to the middle of the dance floor and was mercilessly tickled by her cousin Beornwin and her best friend Haashim.

She soon looked for Sufyan, but when she couldn't see him she stood up and went to ask her sharp-eyed uncle.

"He left about two minutes ago through the west corridor! More mead?" 

"No thank you, Uncle. I shall return in a little while. Enjoy the feast!"

Aemma hurried out in the direction she had been directed to, and it did not take her long to find him sitting in the deserted common room that connected the twenty chambers, which belonged to various members of the Northmen. He was playing with a small jade model of an elephant, tossing it and rolling it between his palms. The muffled noise of laughter and music echoed through the cold, dark room. He was shivering.

"Sufyan?"

He lifted his head and gave her an enquiring look.

"Are you well?" she asked, searching his dark face.

"Very well, maybe cold though," he said, his rich bass voice resounding off the walls.

"There is a fire in my room. We could talk there?"

He smiled gratefully and gracefully eased himself off the chair, and loped off to the large oak door that Aemma recognized to be her own. The door creaked open and she walked quickly over to the fire. She smiled happily; the fire was very warm. She watched Sufyan's eyes wander over everything in her room to check for danger. Old habits die hard. She doubted her writing table or the wooden bench with many furs draped over it which she slept on or the chest contained many perilous situations, but one never knew.

Sufyan was staring over the lakes outside, leaning on the window sill. She took a deep breath and asked, "Sufyan, I am beginning to think that my visit will extend for a year rather than a season."

He stiffened by the window and threw her a shocked glance over his shoulder before turning back, but she could see his fists squeeze the sill and his face harden.

"Why?" he forced out between clenched teeth.

"The merchants are being particularly difficult. I was hoping to do quite a lot of negotiation through letters, but they insist on seeing me in person. So I was wondering…would you accompany me? I would not be so lonely then."

"I am tempted, but I cannot. I must stay," he answered reluctantly.

"Are you sure?" she enquired gently. "I shall miss you so. Would it not be diplomatic?"

"No. Sauron has not yet been vanquished long and I and my kin were one of the reasons members of the Gondorian courts now wear the black clothing of grief."

She dropped her eyes, looked at the floor and turned away. "They are the reason I nearly had to wear that color too."

"Do not speak like that! You are to make connections with that realm and harboring bitterness will only hurt your effort!"  
>She raised her eyes and looked at Sufyan. His stance was tense as he stared out onto the snowy forest that surrounded the Chieftain of Northmen's home. His scarlet robe stood out against the dark stone of her chamber and his long black hair glowed in the firelight. She quietly crossed the room, her boots making no noise on the fur pelt that covered the floor, and placed a small pale hand on Sufyan's broad shoulder. He glanced at her and a faint smile of acknowledgement flitted across his features before he returned to his stiff vigil over the frozen lake outside. She tried again, and ducked under his arm, staring him straight in the face. He looked down at her and met her eyes and, seeing her fierce expression, came away from the window and sat in one of the wooden chairs. She followed him over and he pulled her onto his lap.<p>

"I will miss you."

"And I you. But will you at least talk to me before I leave?" she asked ironically, tweaking his ear.

"What is there to say? You have been sent away from your home country and I, for a year to make connections with another realm so we will not starve. There is nothing much about that to say," he replied, not looking at her, but as he said the word "away" his grip on her stomach tightened. She slipped her hand into his robe and began to slowly explore the contours of the long scar that ran from the top of his shoulder to the opposite hip.

"Please come away with me," she murmured into his ear. "I do not want to be alone."

"There is no point of us going if I travel with you, as there would be too many confrontations and nobody would want to trade with you. They do not take kindly to those of my race," he replied, stroking her cheek.

"'Tis true. I do not want to leave," she sighed.

"It will be better for us when you return. It will be spring then, will it not? We could go play in the melting snow and search for the crocus to put in your hair. They are such beautiful flowers."

"Write me often?" she asked, pulling back and looking deeply into his dark eyes.

"I promise."


	2. A Little Bug

"Why must you go, Naunty?" asked Aemma's pouting niece.

Aemma sighed. Maybe it was to prove to Elessar that although they have joining forces with the Harad, the hated Corsairs of Umbar, they still needed food and trade to develop their country; maybe to show that although they caused the Kin-strife they were still human. And maybe to prove to the Gondorian court that they weren't savages. However, a six year old child of her brother would most likely not understand this.

"To talk to a King, far away, my love." said Aemma. "Now off you go, I have to go soon and I want to talk to your Father." Her niece scowled and ran off, hollering after her siblings.

Her brother, Wselfwulf, wandered towards her, smiling. His eyes met hers; they were exactly the same colour.

"So, you leave today?" He asked, plonking himself down on the wooden seat and drawing from his pocket a knife and a block of wood. He began to carve slowly a small shape of an oliphaunt.

Aemma nodded. She twisted her hands together, and opened her mouth then shut it promptly. She squeezed her eyes tightly together before taking a deep breath.

Wselfwulf looked up at her sharply.

"Aemma?" he asked simply.

She gazed at him, all her panicked frustration spilling over.

"Wselfwulf, how do you cope with not having Irminburga? Not having your soulmate? Your wife?"

He tensed, and sighed.

"Is this about Sufyan? Because, I don't really think it is the same. Sufyan is still alive." he answered her, ducking his head to the grass. "She went away and I won't see her again. But, since… Well, I just got on with looking after our children and I spoke to her grave when it hurt the most."

Aemma opened her mouth to ask a question when the youngest of Wselfwulf's childen came springing up.

"Pa, Mo found a _bug_ on a log and it is really really big. She says come to mish it up!" the child requested urgently pulling on his Father's hand.

"I don't think that there will be much need of that! Let us go see though, shall we?" He gave Aemma a glance and kissed her on the cheek. "Stay safe."

Aemma nodded and walked away. She returned to her chamber and continued to pack, while still thinking about her brother's words.

A hand encircled her waist and she jumped. She turned and stared into a pair of sorrowful dark eyes.

"The escort has arrived. Are you ready?"

Aemma took a deep breath and steeled herself.

"Yes."


End file.
